Goat or Ram Sausage
This was another attempt at finding some disgusting meat product. They had poultry and beef sausages too, but when I typed “bock” into my translator, I mis-read the translation into “old ram”. Which was clearly going to be something disgusting.
Unfortunately, “bock” is just “goat”, without an age description. And the flavor and texture is just that of a Vienna sausage. Like a high-end Vienna sausage, it is quite good with hot sauce.
So the search continues.
Sausage Breakfast
A few days before we left New York, we met a woman on the subway who noticed Alissa’s German-To-English dictionary, and introduced herself. She turned out to have been from Stuttgart, and we chatted for a while about how great the city was. She told us that we were thin, and that we should do our best to avoid eating like a German.
I told her “no”.
I’m not sure if it’s because we’re buying the high quality sausages, or if all sausages in Germany tend to be built this way, but cooking sausages from around here is distinctly different than in the States. I burned the #*& out of the first few sausages I cooked, because I didn’t realize the stove was too hot. As far as I can tell, the sausages here contain less water. When they sit in the pan, they don’t make a sizzle sound; they just sit, browning quietly. And then they burn, quietly. And then smoke goes everywhere, quietly.
I bought this… food… at a grocery store near our place in Degerloch. My brother, who lived in Bremen for a couple years, suggested that any kind of sausage would end up being really good. So I set out to prove him wrong.
Diced Chicken Meat with Premium Quality Pickles in Clear, Disgusting Goo
I purchased these a couple days ago, if it must be known. I just didn’t have the heart to open the package. But this morning, after seeing Darling Wife out to her job, I dove right in.
Close-up view of a slice
I will eventually prove my brother wrong. But not today. Today, I will feast on delicious meat chunks, suspended in savory goo. The pickles added a nice sourness, and the chicken was like breast meat. It. Was. Delicious.
Schlossplatz is the center of the city, where all the subway lines merge. The Times Square of Stuttgart. And when it rains, and everyone crowds into the small overhangs of the store fronts, it feels like Times Square.
When we first arrived, we grabbed a pretzel. This was meant to be a challenge, since the word pretzel is “brezel”, and is pronounced “buweh-tzel”. And if you want butter on that, “boo-teh-buweh-tzel”. Luckily, I didn’t see any butter anywhere. I jumped right in.
“Brezel, bitte.”
“Eins?” she asked, holding up her thumb.
“Ja”.
She gave me a pretzel. “Danke schoen!”
“Tschüss!”
And then we ate the pretzel. It was pretty good, but that sparked a discussion. There really wasn’t anything specific that we could identify about the pretzel. It was fairly normal. It didn’t even have butter on it, like the Auntie Anne’s you buy in Penn Station, or your local mall. It just had the proper amount of salt on it, had some crunch on the shell, and a moist center. Success!
The train brought us somewhere near the Schloßplatz, or Palace Square. I didn’t recognize it. Why would I?
Schlossplatz Palace Square
We walked on. This is a pretty typical area.
Stores Around Schlossplatz
We walked on. Eventually, we got hungry. But instead of eating, we kept going.
Yarn Store for my mom, who loves yarn stores
After near starvation, we stuffed some currywurst in our faces.
Currywurst
The only real redeeming feature of currywurst is the wurst itself. Delicious stuff. The actual curry used here wasn’t particularly amazing. Good enough for starving children, however. And the fries were good.
And then we walked right into this:
Schlossplatz Ball Fountain
And something triggered in my head. I’ve seen this before! I was here for Cannstatter Volksfest (an Oktoberfest for Stuttgart) four years ago. I went with my brother and his friend John, and we threw an American football around in the square in front of the palace! That was a night that deserves a story all on it’s own. It was neat to see again.
In an effort to eat every popular German food in less than a week, we also got a doner kabab. This went significantly less smoothly than ordering the pretzel.
“Hallo. Eins, bitte,” I said, ordering Menu Item Number One. I forgot to add the word “nummer” to that sentence, but it worked out.
“Blarg blarg blarg” the cashier said. The only thing I caught was something that might have been roll, and since the kebabs were sold either on a roll or a wrap. I wanted a wrap, but the previous person ordered on a roll. So, assuming the cashier was asking which one I wanted, I pointed to the roll.
“Was ist das?” I said. Even though I am clearly a native German speaker, I had no idea what a “roll” was.
“Blarg.” said the cashier. He seemed to understand my situation, and pointed to the wrap. “Oder blarg.”
I pointed to the wrap. “Dies”.
He said some other things, but the only word I caught was “trink”, which means “drink”. Ha ha! I know what he’s asking!
“Nein, danke!”
That was not a proper response, because he paused, looked at me strangely, “blarg”ed a few times, and the order was complete. I handed him too much money, he made change, and I took my food to Alissa, who was waiting outside.
Doner Kebab
Neither of us was hungry enough to eat the whole thing.
On the way home, we picked up some absoutly disgusting looking meat product. I want to test the limits. It’s probably going to be delicious.